Not So Different
by Satan Abraham
Summary: Because, Olson realizes, Barkovitch isn't so different from him. Oneshot. Rated T for language.


After they die, Barkovitch becomes way more withdrawn that he was in life, Olson notices. He doesn't talk near as much; in fact, he barely talks at all.

Not that it stops everyone from pushing him around, of course. They're still sore. Especially Rank, who was on Barkovitch almost as soon as he died and materialized in their weird little world. And Barkovitch just takes it. He takes the physical abuse, he takes the verbal abuse, he just doesn't react. And this scares Olson, because Barkovitch shouldn't be acting like this.

Now he's off sitting by himself, on top of a picnic bench, feet swinging idly. It's one of the only times Olson has seen the kid even remotely at peace – for once he's not making sure his back's to a wall, or looking around anxiously.

He should be, though, because Collie Parker's gotten up and is heading for him. Olson's closer, and even though he doesn't want to mess with Collie Parker, he goes for Barkovitch, who by now has realized something is up and is watching him with bright black eyes. Collie Parker slinks away like an alley cat, back to Abraham, who looks disappointed. Olson has never liked Abraham.

Barkovitch speaks then, but it's too quiet to make out what he's saying, so Olson asks him to repeat himself and, "I said, what do you want?"

Barkovitch hasn't really changed. Quieter, yeah, but he's still the annoying little prick he always was.

"I was savin' you, don't complain," Olson says. He takes a seat beside Barkovitch and Barkovitch scoots over. He's practically falling off and Olson rolls his eyes. Barkovitch speaks again.

"Why?"

This question's tough, because the thing is, Olson doesn't know. It would've been so much easier to let Collie Parker make the kid upset – which is getting increasingly harder, but if anyone can do it, it's Collie Parker – but he didn't. For some reason he's sitting her beside Barkovitch, risking his own life (or something like that, who knows?).

"Dunno," Olson says, and it's Barkovitch's turn to roll his eyes. "What?"

"Don't you hate me too? Everyone else does. Hell, sometimes I do too. Hate me, I mean," Barkovitch glares moodily out at nothing. "Christ, I don't know why. But that's how it is."

Olson stays quiet and kind of wishes he hadn't come over. Really, someone like Baker would've been better for something like this. Cute little innocent Baker.

"I don't try to make people hate me. Hell, I try to – to be nice. But I can't. I've tried shutting up. That's what I've been doing lately. It hasn't changed shit."

Olson, feeling more awkward by the second, makes to leave. "Well, um, I'll leave you to be by yourself, then."

Barkovitch doesn't say anything, just looks at him. Olson flinches and walks back to Baker and McVries. Both of them ask what he was doing, but he just shrugs and they leave it alone. Barkovitch isn't important, after all. Nobody would care if he disappeared on day.

Olson briefly wonders why Barkovitch hasn't just left, and this brief wonder turns into a seriously troubling issue. So troubling, in fact, that he goes and asks.

Barkovitch just shrugs and continues glaring.

"Dammit, can't you just leave? Nobody wants you here, and you'd sure as hell have a better time alone-"

"I don't want to be alone, though," Barkovitch says, and his voice rises. "I don't want to be alone! I always have been, and people – people hating me is better than people pretending I don't exist. Listen, Dumbo, you don't get it. I'm used to this. Only difference now is I don't – is I shut up most of the time. I've had to deal with people like Parker and Rank all my life. I'm _fine."_

"First of all, how old are you? Fifteen? Sixteen? Either way, get a new insult. Secondly, you're not fine. It's not-"

"It's not right, how they treat you," Scramm says, stepping out of the crowd that has quickly formed. Olson figures this is a good thing; if there's anyone everyone likes, it's this guy. "You're just a kid."

"No I'm not," Barkovitch mutters, arms crossed, and Olson can tell that he's brought the old Barkovitch back, the one who has to contradict everything and won't keep his goddam mouth shut.

Scramm waves his hand dismissively. "Okay, but everyone should say sorry, I think."

Baker apologizes first, of course. He only helped with general exclusion and that 'I'll poke you' thing, but he still feels the need to say sorry. One by one everyone mutters it, however grudgingly, and even McVries goes before Parker and Rank.

Rank never does say sorry – not in his vocabulary, Olson guesses. Parker has a little staredown with Barkovitch, then ruffles his hair like a creepy old man, or a grudgingly loving older brother.

"Hell, you're not much different than me. More annoying, but neither of us deserve anyone to like us. C'mon, let's go… have somethin' to eat. Abe, bring your boyfriend."

And Olson just watches as Parker carries Barkovitch away – literally carries, Barkovitch is so freaked out by all this positive attention that he freezes – and thinks that he might not be so different from Barkovitch either.


End file.
